He was offering to take me out of the city, away from the smog and high rents and petty art world squabbles.
His eyes were so dark and penetrating. They were the eyes of man accustomed to seducing women, who knew how to melt a woman’s defenses with the heat of his passion. I wondered how many more women he had seduced before me. I knew then and there that I would not let him go, he would be mine for as long as I could possibly keep him, nothing would stand between our love.
The perfect man. My perfect boyfriend. But maybe I should have known that something was wrong, should have suspected that it all sounded too good to be true.
Chapter 5
For the past few weeks I had kept quiet about my torrid affair with Terrence. But I was in need of some girl talk. Samantha was busy with a big case, so I called my artist friend, really ex-artist friend, Vicki. We met for lunch at a Vietnamese restaurant.
“Who was that black guy you were talking to at the gallery?” She asked.
I smiled. I knew she had noticed us speaking. “Some patron.”
“Patron?”
“Yeah, why?”
“He was so handsome. What does he do?”
“Wall Street, I think.”
“Shit. Was he well hung?”
“What?” I pretended to be surprised.
“Shut up. Answer the question. You must have noticed.”
I laughed. “It looked pretty big.”
“He was like six foot five and in shape. I bet his cock is huge.” She licked her lips. I licked mine. We were both getting excited by all this dick talk. I needed to change the subject so I came clean. I admitted that Terrence and I had been spending a lot of time together; I told her about his offer to back me financially as my patron. When she heard this her face and vibe immediately turned sour.
“You need to be careful. Do you really think that you’re the only women he’s promised the world?"
All I wanted was to share the good news with her. An ex-artists herself, she knew how difficult it was to make it and I was on the verge of doing just that, after so many years of struggling and chasing after my childhood dream. But all she could do was criticize me, remind me of how stupid and naïve I had been in the past.
“You know that a lot of people, people who would know, think that he has something about Amanda’s death.”
Amanda was the young artist who had been killed. So far the police investigation hadn’t netted any suspects. I knew that what she was saying wasn’t true.
“So what if her was her patron? He wasn’t the only one. I’m sure there were plenty of people who might have wanted her dead.”
I could tell by her expression that she was surprised by this last statement.
“Really? And how would you know?”
“Why can’t you just be happy for me? Just because you gave up on your career and started getting drunk and sleeping around doesn’t mean that—“
Smack! Her open palm slammed into my face and knocked me off the chair. I grabbed my glass of white wine and threw it in her face. She screeched, got up from her seat and went straight for my hair. There was a loud commotion in the restaurant. I heard women and men screaming. I felt her nails digging into my face. She was scratching and clawing at me, trying to rip out my hair.
“Fucking bitch,” she kept saying. “You stupid fucking bitch.” We rolled around on the floor kicking and scratching and clawing one another. I felt several hands, several people telling us to calm down and to let go of each but we only held on tighter. Finally someone managed to separate us. We were both drenched and stained with food and wine. We must have pulled the tablecloth off during the scuffle and rolled around in our meal.
Chapter 6
It had been a week since I’d seen him, a week of wandering the streets in a daze, yearning for his touch, unable to paint, unable to think about anything except him, his touch, his taste, his smell. I pictured him lifting me in the air, pressing me against the wall, pumping me with his huge cock. One day during that week while walking through the Lower East Side I passed a playground, a playground with a basketball court one that I had probably passed hundred of times without giving it a second glance. But this time instead of walking past, I pressed myself up against the metal fence surrounding the park and watched. Sweaty men in their twenties and thirties ran up and down court, wrestled for the ball, pushed, grunted, jumped. Their muscles glistened with summer sweat.
I imagined these men returning to my apartment, stripping off their clothes, stepping into the shower into the shower one after the other, their bodies fatigued, muscles sore, cocks dangling between their legs. I smiled, licked my lips. I noticed a few of them staring at me. “What’s that white girl doing over there,” I imagined them saying. I placed one hand over my pussy. Wet. I began rubbing my clit through the thin fabric of my summer dress. Within in a few minutes my panties were completely soaked. I licked my lips again, closed my eyes, parted my lips, lolled my head back. When I opened my eyes I noticed several men staring at me lustily. I teased them for another ten minutes or so, and then quickly moved on as if nothing had happened. I would have to go looking for James at his office. I couldn’t wait any longer to see him. I needed him inside of me, or else I was liable to fuck the next stranger who even remotely resembled him.
I felt my whole body calling out for him. I wanted to surprise him at his office; I had never been there before. I wondered if he had any young, hot women working for him. But when I turned the corner of Lexington and James Street, I was the one who got the surprise. There he was about to hop into a cab, when two men in long coats called out to him. He waved for the cab to go on then he looked at the men. Both of them pulled out what had to be badges and flashed them in his face. Oh shit, I thought, what had I gotten myself into. Who was this man? Why in the world would the police be questioning him? Then my mind shot back to that day in the gallery, when Simon said that I should watch out for Terrence. But for what? I was too far away to hear what they were saying, but Terrence seemed flustered and scared. I had never seen him like that. He was always so calm and in control. What the hell was going on? I wanted to scream. I wanted to run into his arms and hold him. I wanted to tell those men that there must have been some mistake. There was no way he could have done anything wrong. No, it wasn’t possible. He was too perfect. One of the cops opened the back door of an unmarked car. He motioned for Terrence to get in. Terrence hesitated, looked around. I ducked my head to make sure he didn’t see me. He finally got in, and the car zoomed off.
That night at dinner he seemed really withdrawn. He kept looking around the restaurant, like he expected someone to barge in at any moment, maybe those two cops, and take him away. I had never seen him like this before. But I didn’t want to ask what was wrong. I didn’t want to tell him that I had seen him earlier that day. I wanted him to tell me. I was sure there was logical explanation for what happened. But instead of him mentioning it, we just made small talk. After I got tired of watching him fidget, avert his eyes, and hide his hands under the table, I finally asked what was wrong.
“Nothing, babe. Hard day at work.”
“Anything interesting?”
“No, not really. But I was trying to get things in order for our trip.” There’s just a lot of-“ his eyes darted in one direction then the other. He seemed like he was about to get up. He took the napkin from his lap, wiped his mouth and stood halfway up before he scanned the room quickly and sat back down.
“What is it? Please tell me. I can’t stand to see you like this.”
“Like I said. It’s nothing, babe. Let’s just finish our meal.”
“I saw you today. Outside your office.”
He glared at me. I had never seen that anger in his eyes.
“What did you say?”
“I wanted to surprise you at your office today. I saw you talking to those two men. They were detectives, weren’t they?”
“Who the fuck do you think you are? You spoiled fucking brat. This is h
ow you repay me for what I’ve done.”
“I wasn’t following you, I swear. I missed you. I hadn’t seen you in three days.”
“Three days? Three days? Are you serious? Do you think I’m just sitting around in my own fantasy land like you and all your artist friends?”
“Please, don’t be mad at me.”
“How do you think that I can afford to take you to these restaurants? How do you think that I can afford to fly you to Spain and put you up in a villa for 9 months so you can do you work?”
I felt terrible. This is not how I envisioned this happening. I wanted him to know that I would be there for him if he needed me. The last thing I wanted was to upset him. I could see people in the restaurant turning in our direction and whispering under their breath. It must have already caught their attention that this black stud had walked into this high class restaurant with a dainty little white girl. That was always enough to get tongues wagging. It seemed like wherever we went in the city, we always got a few glances. Men, women, black and white, it never failed. Sometimes we got dirty looks; other times it seemed like people were jealous of us. But these looks and the whispers that came along with them, and the snickering, this was different. We needed to get out of here before something bad happened. Unfortunately, Terrence was in no mood to calm down.
“So you’re following me around during the day. I wonder how else you’re keeping tabs on me. I bet you love gossiping with your girlfriends about how well I take care of you. And of course the dick. The big black dick. You’re probably bragging about how good I’m giving it to you.”
Now he was clearly trying to embarrass me. He had raised his voice, so everyone in the vicinity could hear exactly what he was saying. I felt my face flush red. I don’t know what stopped me from getting up and running out of the restaurant, but for some reason all I could do was sit there and take his abuse.
“I thought we were more than that. I thought you loved me.”
“Like we could be anymore than what we are. I don’t even know what that is. But take a good look around this restaurant. Take a good look. Do you see any couples that look like us? Do you?”
I felt myself breaking inside. I grabbed my napkin and dabbed at my eyes. I couldn’t believe how cruel he was being. But what I didn’t know at the time was that he had much brutality in store for me later that night.
“Tell me why those police came to your office today. Tell me!” I screamed.
Every head in the restaurant turned towards us. I saw some of the restaurant staff looking and pointing in our direction.
“All you fucking art girls are the same. I bet your girlfriends told you about my reputation. And just wanted to come down to the office see who I was fucking, that’s it isn’t?”
“So that’s all I am to you a good fuck? That’s it. I can’t believe I actually fell for your tire act. So stupid.” I made a move to stand up. He grabbed my wrist and jerked me back into the seat.
“Maybe you should just go back to the Midwest. Go back there and make your stupid collage paintings. You’re never going to make it in this city, or any other city for that matter. What a joke.”
“Fuck you!”
He seemed startled, but quickly regained his composure.
“Just like my fucking wife, he snarled. That goddamn bitch.”
I felt like he had just knocked me upside the head. Wife? He had told me that he had been divorced for three years.
“Your wife?”
“What are you going to cry about that to? Yes, my wife. That’s why those cops came by my office today. It’s not enough that she trying to take all of money, she’s also accusing me of trying to kill her.”
All this was too much for me. I felt my head get light, breathing becoming harder. I took a long sip on a glass of water and tried to catch my breath.
“You told me you were—“
“I told you what you needed to know. I knew you wouldn’t want anything to do with me if I told you I was still married.”
“You want to have her killed?”
“Why don’t you say it louder so everyone in the restaurant hears you?”
He shook his head, attempted to calm him self and then told me that according to his ex-wife someone had been waiting outside their suburban Westchester home for the past two weeks, staking the place out or something like that. The cops stopped the guy on a routine traffic violation and had uncovered a whole slew of warrants. And now the police were going around questioning anyone who might have a reason to harm her. Terrence was the first name on that list. He had been living in separate residences for the last few months, that’s what he said, and they were going through a divorce.
“You should have told me. I would have understood,” I said. I stretched my hands across the table. He didn’t take them in his like he usually did. I stared into his eyes, pleading, hoping for some signal that we still had a chance of making it.
“It’s not enough that this bitch is going to take all of my money. Now she’s got me involved in some sort of criminal investigation.”
“But it’s not true, right? It’s all some big mistake, no?” I wanted him to tell me that the police had made a mistake. I wanted him to tell me that there was no way he could possibly be involved in something evil. But that’s not what I got from.
“You probably suspected all along. I mean, you never wondered why we only see each other once a week. Even after all these months of dating. You really thought I was that busy at?”
Maybe he had a point. There were signs that I should have seen, but I choose to ignore them because everything felt so good, so right between us. But now when I looked across the table, when I looked into his eyes I feared that this man could actually be capable of what he was being accused of. Murder. He paid the check and barked at me to get up.
Outside the restaurant I figured we would go our separate ways. I thought that he would be glad to be alone, or at least not with me. Maybe another one of his art girls, someone as young and dumb as I was, would welcome him into her arms. Maybe there was another tight pussy, with swollen pink lips waiting for his huge, raging cock. Whoever it was, she would probably get the fuck of her life.
If only we had gone our separate ways, everything might have turned out differently. But instead of letting me go off and cry on my own, he yanked me by the arm and hailed a cab. Before we slid into the backseat, he glared at me, gritted his teeth, and said, “You say one fucking word. One word. And I’ll fucking kill you.” I wanted to scream, but my vocal chords wouldn’t produce any sound. Nothing seemed to work. My whole body tensed up. I wanted to drop down right there on the concrete in the middle of Manhattan and wait for someone to come and rescue me, to save me from this man whom I could hardly recognize. He was going to kill me. I was sure of it.
I must have passed out in the backseat because I had no idea how I ended up back in his apartment tied to the bed with a blindfold over my eyes. For the next three hours, or however long it took, he ravaged my body, slapped me around, jammed his huge dick in and out of me. All I could do was surrender.
Chapter 7
In the morning, it must have been morning because the sunlight filtered through the blinds; he untied me, laid his head on my chest and wept. We wept together, held each other in our arms. He begged for forgiveness, begged for me not to call the cops. They were already watching him, waiting for him to slip up and this would only add to the heat they would put on him. It was only game, he assured me, a very rough game that he wanted to play with me. Then he admitted that yes, he did have someone tailing his wife, but it wasn’t to have her killed he insisted, he just wanted to scare her out of going after so much of his money in the divorce.
“I did it for you,” he said. “For us. She’s trying to take everything I have. Everything I’ve worked for.”
He told me that I was his only hope. Despite the fancy suits, lunches and dinners at five star restaurants, and this apartment on the Upper West Side, he was really struggli
ng financially. He had lost a lot of money in the recent financial crash and his artistic investments hadn’t panned out either. Paying the rent on the swanky 4k a month apartment had become a real struggle. He begged for me to stay with him.
“We can leave tomorrow,” he said, full of desperation.
“Tomorrow? Where?”
“Spain. The villa still needs some work but we’ll do that ourselves. Just you and me,” he said.
He cupped my face in his large hands. I pulled away. I thought he was going to hurt me, but the look in his eyes was so desperate and pleading. He kissed me gently on the lips.
I looked at him as lovingly as possible and assured him that I wouldn’t abandon him. But wasn’t sure I believed that. I didn’t really know who this man was. There was no way I would run away to another country with man who had hidden this secret life from me. A wife and kids that he never talked about. And on top of that hiring someone to kill the mother of his children? I didn’t feel safe being in the same apartment with him, let alone in a foreign country where I didn’t know anyone and couldn’t speak the language. I knew he was hurt and wounded, but so was I. Samantha was right. It was time that I finally stood up for myself. I had to protect myself. The old me would have stayed with him, trying somehow to rationalize the lies and the brutality. But I had been through that once before and I knew where it ended: drunk on the floor all alone, reeking of alcohol, cigarettes and cum. But still I wanted to believe, despite what I could clearly see, that this man who had penetrated me so deeply, had filled me up so completely, and had promised me the life of artist which I had always dreamed of, was the perfect man.
Interracial Romance: Gay Romance: Bound By His Own Desires (MMM Endowed Black Men Bondage Threesome Romance) (A Billionaire's Freedom Book 3) Page 114